


From the Safety of the Cedar Spill

by Byacolate, mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix falls back onto the comfort of social niceties as though he isn’t shepherding a naked stranger into his summer villa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Safety of the Cedar Spill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snakepapa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakepapa/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAITI! Have your very own prompt!

There’s someone on the beach.

 

Felix sees them from far up - a long body upon the sand down the old stone path. He can’t make out any fine details from three hundred paces, but it’s fairly obvious that they’re not wearing any clothes. The long expanse of their body is topped with a crown of dark hair.

 

They are either dead or sleeping, Felix ascertains after peeking out his window several times over a period of twenty minutes. He considers exercising his right as heir to evict them from Alexius property, but they haven’t wandered closer or caused disturbance, so for the moment he leaves them be. Truth be told, the greatest offense they’ve caused is Felix’s mental unrest regarding their well being.

 

Another hour of unpacking passes and a quick look out the window reveals no shift in position, so Felix takes it upon himself to change into something lighter and make his way down the stone path.

 

Without shoes his footfalls are nearly silent, though he doesn’t want to startle the naked stranger on his beach. He stops several paces away, and… doesn’t stare at the long muscled back, thick thighs, sculpted calves… and is so busy not staring at the very impressive display of musculature that he notices the peculiar-looking cloth pillowed between the person’s folded arms and head.

 

Even from this distance he can see that the man isn’t dead. He looks too peaceful to be unconscious or hurt, so the only reasonable explanation that Felix can think of is that he’s sleeping. Which doesn’t seem all that reasonable to him at all. What kind of man chooses to take a nap on a beach, completely naked and with only some piece of cloth as a pillow?

 

Felix stays put, his toes digging into the warm sand as he considers his options. He’d have every right to evict this stranger. But even now, just a few paces away from him, he struggles to find a reason for it. Sleeping isn’t exactly a crime, and it isn't hurting him in any way.

 

Not to mention that waking him up might prove to be the more embarrassing option.

 

Felix has almost made up his mind to retreat back to the house when the stranger moves. Not much, just a little twitch of the leg and a bit of shifting, as sleeping people do. But it’s enough to startle Felix. He takes a hasty step back - an ill advised move in the soft sand.

 

The footfall may not have been enough to rouse the naked man from sleep, but the little yelp that escapes Felix as he falls over backwards into the sand certainly does.  

 

As Felix goes down, the stranger pops up. It’s difficult to say which of them is more startled by this turn of events. Staggering to his feet, the naked stranger opens and closes his mouth a few times.

 

“Hello,” Felix says, his manners kicking despite the circumstances. “Sorry to, ah… startle you, but you’re on my beach.”

 

He’s determinedly not looking anywhere but the man’s face. Confusion furrows his brow, and his gaze darts between Felix and the odd, thick cloth in the sand.

 

“What?” he says, in Common. Felix blinks.

 

“You’re on my beach,” he repeats himself, also in Common. He supposes he should have made an assumption, based on the complexion.

 

“Your beach? Nobody lives here.”

 

“I’m afraid I do,” Felix says, slowly coming to stand himself. “Do you… you wouldn’t have any clothes nearby, would you?”

 

“What? Oh.”

 

“I assume you didn’t come here like this?” Felix says and brushes the sand from his clothes. He even tries for a little smile, more to reassure himself than his new acquaintance if he’s completely honest.

 

The stranger blinks and for a moment lets his gaze wander over the beach. “No,” he says. “I didn’t.” More as an afterthought, he moves his hand to cover himself. Which only helps a little bit. It’s not like the rest of him is any less distracting but Felix keeps his eyes fixed on the man’s face and swallows.

 

“Perhaps they were carried out by the tide.” It’s not the most likely theory and judging by the look on the man’s face he’s thinking the same thing. But it’s better than imagining him making his way through the dunes like this on purpose. “I... have something I could offer you up at the house. I’m sure we can find something that will fit you.” Looking at the breadth of his shoulders alone, he isn’t entirely certain about the last part.

 

“House?” The man furrows his brow once more and Felix starts to think he may have been sleeping in the sun for a bit too long.

 

He gestures towards the house in the distance and the man blinks like he’s seeing it for the first time.

 

“That’s normally empty,” he grumbles, rubbing a bit of sand off his cheek.

 

“You do this often, then?”

 

“Yeah - I mean… I figured it was empty, so no harm done.”

 

Felix hides his befuddlement behind a polite smile and glances up toward the house. By the time he looks back, his new acquaintance has snatched the cloth up. “It might do you some good to get out of the sun. You’ve been out here for quite some time.”

 

“That’s… nice, but I really should be going -”

 

“Without any clothes?” Felix asks, trying not to laugh. The man doesn’t look like he has a proper response for that. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to send you off like this.”

 

The man’s gaze darts to the waves. “It’s fine.”

 

“Please,” Felix says. “At least let me get you something to drink. Or some food? You’ve been out here for a while.” For the first time, the irritation on the man’s face gives way to something almost like curiosity and Felix realizes that he just admitted for how long he’s been watching him. “I assume,” he adds lamely.

 

The man opens his mouth for another protest but seems to think better of it.

 

“What if something were to happen to you on your way home?”

 

“I can look out for myself,” the man says but finally moves, taking a tentative step towards Felix.

 

“I never meant to insinuate that you couldn’t. Merely that I’d feel responsible.” Felix smiles. “And I find looking out for yourself is a lot easier when you don’t have to worry about being so… exposed.”

 

The man makes a noise and Felix could swear it’s almost a laugh, even if quickly covered up with a scowl.

 

“Right,” he says. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

“Not at all,” Felix says, falling back into comfortable social niceties as though he isn’t shepherding a naked stranger into his summer villa. “I’m Felix Alexius, by the way.”

 

The man at his side grunts, and only after a sideways glance from Felix does he hasten to say, “Carver.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you, despite the… circumstances.” Or particularly _because_ of them. Felix isn’t going to say that. “Do you live very close?”

 

“Closer than you’d think,” Carver snorts, and doesn’t elaborate.

 

Felix is no stranger to keeping a conversation alive by himself. He’s been to more balls and festivities filled with stiff, boring magisters than he cares to remember and he knows how to keep up idle talk. “I didn’t know anyone lived around here at all, if I’m honest,” he says. “I assume it’s part of this place’s charm.”

 

Carver only grunts but Felix isn’t so easily dissuaded.

 

“My mother hates the isolation so we rarely come. But enjoy the quiet sometimes. It’s easier to study with no one around to distract me.”

 

They reach the wooden steps leading up to the house. They’re too narrow to let them walk next to each other comfortably and etiquette demands that Felix let his guest walk up first. For the first time he silently curses his manners when this only leads to him getting a good view of Carver’s backside as he climbs up the stairs. He doesn’t quite know where to look so he keeps his eyes on the ground as much as possible.

 

An unfortunate servant crosses the back hall when Felix pokes his head in and nearly drops the sheets in her arms at the sight of Carver. She’s startled into stillness, her eyes like saucers, and Felix tactfully sidesteps in front of his guest. In Tevene, he gentles, “The sea carried this man’s clothes away. Could you fetch us a pair of linen trousers and a robe or a shirt? Last year’s fashion will do.”

 

She ducks her head and hurries off without a backward glance, and Felix draws Carver further into the house. They’re getting sand everywhere, so Felix doesn’t take them very far. There’s a lounge just off the hall, and Felix leaves Carver inside to fetch him some water.

 

When he returns, Carver has slipped into a pair of trousers from the former spring, when billowy fabrics were in fashion, though they still ride low on his hips. He has foregone a shirt, and grumbles in protest when Felix implores him to put it on. It proves to be a very tight fit anyway, doing almost nothing to hide the muscles underneath. Carver shifts uncomfortably but takes the water when Felix offers it to him.

 

He’s still holding the length of cloth from the beach. From up close Felix can now see that it’s some sort of pelt, dark and soft-looking but ultimately a strange choice for a pillow. When Carver notices him staring, his grip on the pelt tightens visibly and Felix decides to leave it be for now.

 

“I could fetch you something to eat,” Felix offers when the silence stretches between them.

 

Carver shakes his head and eyes the walls like they might hide some kind of threat. “Water is fine.” And then, like he has to remind himself, “Thank you.”

 

Felix sits down on the edge of the chaise lounge and hopes it’ll put Carver at ease enough to do the same. It takes a moment but Carver takes a seat as well, keeping the pelt close in his lap.

 

“So do you have family around here?” Felix asks. He can tell from Carver’s Common and his complexion that he’s not from here either.

 

He nods. “Siblings. My mother.”

 

“Siblings? That must be nice.”

 

Carver snorts, downing the rest of his water in a few long gulps. He clears his throat, lifting the empty glass to the sunlight. “It’s a pain in the backside’s what it is.”

 

Felix laughs quietly. “Not boring, at least?”

 

“Never that,” Carver drawls, watching light bounce around the room from the glass. “Could stand a bit of boredom, now and then.”

 

“Surely you don’t mean that,” says Felix, following Carver’s gaze. “It can be terribly lonely when you have only yourself for company.”

 

Carver glances at him, and Felix takes the distraction as an opportunity to refill his glass.

 

“You’re not alone, though,” Carver says and nods towards the double doors leading into the hallways. When Felix follows his gaze, he’s just in time to catch a glimpse of a skirt before the curious servant vanishes from view.

 

“Ah,” Felix says. “I suppose not. But it’s not quite the same as family. Or friends.” Spoken out loud it sounds a lot more pathetic than he realized and he tries to soften it with a smile.

 

“But you enjoy the quiet sometimes.”

 

Felix looks up, surprised that Carver listened to any of his babbling on the way here, let alone remembered it.

  
“I do.” The smile is genuine now. “I hated it more when I was a child. No one to play with.”

 

Carver snorts once more. “At least nobody left you in shark-infested waters as a prank when you were a child.”

 

Felix raises his eyebrows. “They did that?”

 

“Perhaps not entirely on purpose,” Carver mumbles and takes a sip of water.

 

Felix… doesn’t know how to respond to that.

 

“You are joking,” he asks, dubious. Carver blinks.

 

“Oh. Yes?”

 

Felix can’t help but stare. Carver waves him off, averting his eyes. “I’m alive, obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Felix distantly agrees, leaning back. “You must… be a very strong swimmer.”

 

“Or very unappetizing to look at,” Carver says, agreeably enough. Felix can’t help but privately disagree as his eyes start to wander.

 

Instead, he says, “On that subject, are you quite sure I can’t feed you? It must be some distance to your home, and I wouldn’t like to send you off hungry. And… to be honest, I would enjoy the company.”

 

Carver looks at him, his brow furrowed but in the end, he nods. “Alright.”

 

Felix has the servants set the table on the terrace overlooking the ocean instead of in the dining room - mostly for the view, but also because Carver seems far more at ease once they step outside. He nears the railing and looks out over the ocean like he’s seeing it for the first time. “You can see all the way to the White Cliffs,” he says, more excited than Felix has seen him all afternoon.

 

“I believe my grandparents built this house mostly for the view.” Felix squints at the shimmer of white in the distance. He doesn’t know the area well enough to know if Carver is right.

 

“The waves there are deadly,” Carver says in a tone that leaves Felix wondering if that’s a good or a bad thing.

 

“So your family are fishermen?” Felix asks as they sit down at the table.

 

Carver carefully drapes the pelt over the back of his chair before shooting him a quizzical look. “What makes you say that?”

 

Felix shrugs. “I didn’t mean to presume. It’s just -”

 

“The shark-infested waters?”

 

“That was certainly part of it,” Felix admits with a small smile.

 

Carver shrugs as he makes himself comfortable. Felix watches the shirt strain nearly to bursting at the seams when he crosses his arms. “You could say we’re fishermen if you’re a little… generous with the definition.

 

Figuring his vagueness comes from discomfort on the subject, Felix changes it. “Your siblings. What are they like?”

 

“Ostentatious,” Carver says with a wry little grin. “Flamboyant. _Grating_.”

 

Felix can’t help but smile back, nodding to the servant who leaves a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. She fills the glasses and departs again without a word.

 

“I’ve always wanted siblings,” he says when they’re alone once more. Carver waves him off as he leans forward to, ah… sniff at his glass.

 

“Trust me - ‘s not worth the hassle.” Then he downs the glass in a couple long swallows. Felix is too busy watching the bob of his throat to bemoan the disregard of the vintage like Dorian might.

 

He refills Carver’s glass and takes a sip from his own. “I have a friend who lived with us for a while. Dorian. He’s not my brother but he’s known to… meddle.”

 

Carver makes a noise and this time Felix knows it’s a laugh. “Sounds like a brother to me.”

 

“Perhaps.” Felix watches Carver lean back in his chair and tries not to stare at the way the shirt stretches over his chest.

 

“My sister, Bethany,” Carver says, “she’s the same. Always pestering me.” He makes a dismissive hand gesture and downs his second glass in much of the same manner as the first. “Wants me to be more social.”

 

Felix bites his bottom lip but can’t quite suppress a smile. “In her defense, I found you sleeping on a beach by yourself.”

 

“Because sleeping on your beach with other people would’ve been more acceptable?”

 

“It might have been easier to explain the nudity,” Felix can’t help but point out. Carver mulls this over for a moment before he concedes with a little shrug.

 

“Alright. Fair point.”

 

It’s… nice. They talk through an early supper, and Carver’s eyebrows rise further and further with each course set before them. Felix keeps him until the sun has nearly set, and sends him off full of food and wine with the greatest reluctance.

 

Carver tucks the pelt snugly under his arm as Felix stands at the terrace to see him off. “As unorthodox as this has been, I’ve truly enjoyed your company,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. He smiles with as much social grace as he’s able and tilts his head forward. “Thank you for entertaining me. If you want to… sunbathe again, or if you need to get away for a bit, you’re most welcome here.”

 

“Yeah?” Carver grins. “Thanks. Might take you up on that.”

 

“I hope you do.”

 

He watches Carver make his way down the stairs and back to the beach until he vanishes from view behind the dunes.

 

Felix didn’t lie when he told Carver that he enjoyed the quiet. If he truly minded being on his own he wouldn’t have come to his parents’ summer house in the first place. But in the days following their encounter, he can’t quite help but feel a little lonely with only the servants keeping him company. They’re perfectly pleasant people, but it’s not the same.

 

He really shouldn’t be looking out of the window every day, hoping to find a naked man napping on his beach. If Dorian ever found out about this he’d never hear the end of it. But it doesn’t stop him from standing on the terrace, searching the dunes below for any sign of Carver.

 

On the third day, he decides he's had enough of waiting. A walk on the beach is going to take his mind off of it and he can’t stand to stay in the house for a moment longer. The cook packs him a light lunch and warns him about the treacherous cliffs further along the coast several times before she lets him go.

 

The sun in warm and pleasant on his skin and when he reaches the beach, he takes off his shoes to feel the sand between his toes. He doesn’t stop when he reaches the spot where he found Carver and presses on toward the soft slopes of the dunes ahead.  

 

Truth be told, Felix can’t remember the last time he spent so long just... walking. Dorian would complain about exercise for recreation, he knows, and smiles to himself imagining the things he’d say. Felix spends a good hour wandering the dunes along the sea until finally he sets his basket atop a sandy hill to rest.

 

His shirt is soaked with sweat and clings unpleasantly to his back, so Felix peels it off of his skin and sets it alongside the basket. He takes a drink from the water flask before snacking on an apple, watching the waves pull to and from the shoreline.

 

They’re hypnotic in their movement and soon, Felix decides it wouldn’t hurt to take a leaf from Carver’s book. Felix stretches himself out on the hill and stares up at a few small clouds drifting by before he drifts off into a light doze.

 

He doesn’t know how long he's slept or what wakes him but when he opens his eyes again, the sun stands a little lower in the sky and his skin feels dry from the wind and the salt in the air. There’s also Carver, sitting cross-legged just a few steps away from him, once again naked save for the trousers Felix gave him and the pelt in his lap.

 

“Hello,” Carver says, looking like a child who’s just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

 

Felix sits up, still not quite certain if he’s truly awake. “Carver.”

 

“Seems I’m not the only one who sleeps on the beach.”

 

Felix laughs even though he still feels a bit hazy. “With a bit more clothing.”

 

Carver’s eyes flick to Felix’s bare chest and shoulders before he averts his gaze. “A bit.”

 

“Ah.” For a moment, Felix thinks about putting his shirt back on but it’s full of sand so he just leaves it by the basket. “I didn’t think I’d find you here,” he says, and it’s only half a lie.

 

Carver shrugs. “I’m here a lot.”

 

Felix pulls his water flask out of the basket and takes a sip to clear his head. “But you didn’t come back to the house.” He could blame sleep or the sun for his honesty but mostly he thinks it’s just Carver.

 

“Yeah.” Carver scratches at the back of his neck, and the motion does very interesting things for his bicep. “Time can… get away from me sometimes. I was planning to, though. Soon.”

 

“I see.”

 

Carver’s hands fall into his lap. “Found you here instead, though. You come out often, or were you just bored without me?”

 

Felix laughs a quiet laugh and waves a hand in his direction. “Is there a reason you’re still wearing my father’s pajamas?”

 

Carver loses his bravado then. Shrugs his great shoulders. “Thought you might want them back.”

 

“Still on your body? What would I do with them then?”

 

Carver actually blushes, the pale skin of his cheeks turning bright red. He opens his mouth and closes it again without a word coming out. When he finally says something, he does it without looking at Felix directly. “I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”

 

Felix decides to take pity on him. “Well, you’re in luck. My father isn’t here and I don’t need them back anytime soon.” He pulls the basket toward himself and opens it. “Would you like something to eat? It seems the cook packed lunch for at least five people.”

 

Carver hesitates but then accepts a fluffy pastry filled with strawberry jam and a small apple. “Is this going to become a habit?” he asks and licks a bit of jam from his thumb.

 

Felix tries and fails not to stare. “Mh?”

 

“Feeding me?”

 

“Perhaps.” Felix takes another sip of water. “If you get into the habit of visiting me.”

 

Carver watches him for a long moment, stuffing himself with the pastry. The apple he’s less enthusiastic about, but he still manages to eat every last morsel. Felix watches in total fascination.

 

Southerners are strange.

 

“You must be very busy,” he says, handing Carver a small box of Orlesian finger sandwiches to see what he’ll do.

 

Carver squints down at them. “Hmm? Not really.”

 

“No? Usually that’s how I lose track of time. I’ll get lost in my studies, or in a good book.”

 

He takes one of the little quartered sandwiches from the box and takes a bite; Carver follows his lead and manages to stuff the entire thing into his mouth. From his expression as he chews, it isn’t to his tastes.”

 

“Nah.” He accepts the offered water flask and drinks from it. “No studies.” He makes a face. “Just family stuff.”

 

Felix makes a contemplative noise. “No sharks this time, I hope?”

 

It earns him an laugh, loud and honest. “No. I’d be too big for most sharks now anyway.” It’s an odd, if probably true statement but before Felix can say anything, Carver gets up and looks out over the sea. “Where were you planning to go?”

 

Felix gets to his feet as well, brushing the sand off his trousers and hands. “I had planned to make it to those cliffs you mentioned the other day. But it seems I might have underestimated the distance.”

 

“The White Cliffs? That’s too far to walk.” Carver scratches the back of his neck. “There are some smaller ones close to here, though. With a little cove. You can’t see it from here but it’s, uh, nice. I could show you. If you want to, I mean.”

 

It will be hours yet before dark, and honestly, Felix is far more interested in spending time with his new friend than retreating to the villa alone.

 

“I’d love to,” he says.

 

Carver gives him a moment to shake out the sand from his shirt and slip it back on. He decides to leave the basket if he’s to return this way anyway, and Carver leads him down the hill and onward.

 

“Do you live near the cove?” Felix asks, falling into step beside Carver, who shrugs.

 

“More or less,” comes his answer, as noncommittal as any other. Felix nods.

 

In a loose attempt for better answers, he says, “Not too close, though - I can’t imagine it’s very safe when the tide comes in.”

 

“The tide doesn’t bother us,” Carver says, and Felix calls it a loss.

 

Up ahead, a formation of dark volcanic rocks blocks their way, reaching far into the waves. But Carver has no problems finding the path leading up into the hills where sand slowly gives way to blueish-green beach grass that gently brushes against Felix’s legs. It’s steeper than it looked and the soft ground doesn’t make the ascent any easier. When he loses his balance for the second time, Carver offers him a hand and he’s all too glad to let himself be pulled up the last bit of the way.

 

“This way,” Carver says once they’ve reached the top and Felix tries not to be too disappointed when he lets go of his hand. The path slopes back towards shore and once they reach it, Felix understands his cook’s warnings. They’re standing at the edge of the cliffs and while Carver tells him once again that they’re not nearly as tall as the White Cliffs, it’s still quite a drop down to the little beach below. The cove is protected from bigger waves by two long arms of volcanic rock reaching into the water, shielding it from strong currents and curious onlookers. It’s only when standing right at the edge of the cliffs that the beach is visible at all.

 

There are steps hewn into the stone and leading down to the beach. They’re steep and once again, Carver offers his hand without hesitation.

 

Felix takes it because… well.

 

The sand on the beach is as fine as it is on the Alexius property, but shielded from the sun,  so close to the cliffs, it’s cooler under his bare feet. He stops when Carver drops his hand and buries his toes down.

 

Only a few steps further, the sand is sun-baked once more.

 

“I’ve never been this far out,” Felix tells him, his eyes on the gentle ebb and flow of the tide.

 

“Nice, isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t see any sharks,” Felix agrees, and laughs when Carver kicks a bit of sand at him.

 

“No sharks here,” Carver says and steps closer to the water’s edge. “No people either. It’s too difficult to find.”

 

Felix walks over to him until the waves gently lap at his feet. The water is cool but not unpleasantly so. “So how did you find it?”

 

Carver shrugs and Felix already guesses he’s only going to get a vague answer. “My family’s been coming here for ages.”

 

The water washes around Felix’s feet and he sinks a little bit into the wet sand. This is very different from the roaring surf he’s come to know back at the house. He tells Carver so and it earns him a little smile.

 

“The currents get a bit tricky further out but the biggest waves break on the rocks back there.” He points towards the open sea at the end of the cove, a deep blue several shades darker than the water in front of them. He hesitates for a moment. “Do you want to go in?”

 

Felix looks at him. “Into the water?”

 

“That was the idea, yes.” Carver digs his heels into the sand. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I just thought -”

 

“No,” Felix says quickly. “I want to. I’m just… not a very good swimmer, I’m afraid.”

 

There’s hint of teeth to Carver’s smile as he turns to him. “I figured. But I promise this is the calmest water you can find. And I’m a decent swimmer. Or so they tell me.”

 

Felix bites his tongue and looks out over the water. It looks inviting enough but then again most dangerous things do. Another wave laps at his feet. “Alright,” he says. “If you stay with me.”

 

“’Course,” Carver says, and all but jumps out of his trousers. He shoves them down and kicks them off to trot out into the surf. Felix follows at a more sedate pace, folding his own trousers and shirt and laying them atop a rock in the shade.

 

Despite Carver‘s shamelessness, Felix decides to leave his smallclothes on. He wades out into the water in Carver‘s direction. Carver swims like it‘s second nature to him. He ducks underwater and swims up close to Felix, lounging on his back as Felix wades further in.

 

Once the water can lap at his chest, he figures that‘s quite far enough. Carver splashes at him from behind.

 

“Stretch out. The sun feels great.”

 

“I’m not sure I can float properly,” Felix admits, watching Carver backstroke a slow circle around him.

 

Carver stops mid-stroke. “I could show you.” The water hardly reaches his chest when he stands up. “If you want.”

 

Felix cocks an eyebrow. “Show me?”

 

“Uh, support you?” Carver lifts his hands out of the water like he’s holding up some invisible weight and Felix understands.

 

“Oh.” Despite the cool water, he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He keeps his gaze firmly on Carver’s face, not allowing it to wander down. Not allowing himself to wonder. “Sure.”

 

The whole affair should be more embarrassing, more unusual. Felix on his back, floating on the waves and the tips of Carver’s finger, carefully supporting his back and his legs. It’s just the lightest touch but Felix can hardly focus on anything else.

 

“Alright?” Carver asks, lifting him up a little more so the waves won’t wash over his face.

 

“Perfectly fine,” Felix says with an awkward sideways smile. “My pride’s a little worse for wear.”

 

“Being held like a pup will do that,” Carver says with a little grin of his own. “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

“Kind of you,” Felix laughs, tapping at his chest. “Go on - let me go. I think I can manage.”

 

With very little warning, Carver complies. Felix… sinks like a stone. He resurfaces, standing on his tiptoes and wiping the water from his face.

 

“That went poorly,” Carver says from very close. Felix waves him away.

 

He swallowed just enough salt water to make his throat burn and his discreet coughing makes it worse before it gets better. Despite his waving, Carver gives him a few good claps on the back until he can breathe normally again. “And there goes the rest of my pride,” he wheezes but manages a smile, if only to reassure Carver.

 

“I’ve never seen anyone sink like that,” Carver says, his hand still on Felix’s back.

 

Felix wipes a drop of saltwater from the corner of his eye. “I’d welcome a shark or two by now.”

 

Carver’s fingers curl against his skin and Felix is suddenly very, very aware of them. “Don’t say that. You just need practice.”

 

“I think I might be more suited for standing. Or just dipping my toes in.”

 

“That’s not a lot of fun,” Carver says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

“Neither is drowning.” Felix coughs one last time. “Or humiliation.”

 

“I wouldn’t let you drown,” Carver protests. But he doesn’t push Felix into floating again, just swims around him while he slogs around the cove.

 

The blue-green water of the cove and the outstretch of volcanic rock are particularly stunning when the sun starts to set. To Felix’s disappointment, he knows he must be going - even if he hurries, he doubts he’ll make it home before the sky goes dark.

 

Carver follows, and when Felix ducks behind a rock to shimmy out of his soaken smallclothes and into his dry clothes, Carver goes to mess around behind some large stones nearby.

 

“I’ll walk with you,” Carver says, that same pelt from days previous tucked under his arm.

 

“Surely not,” Felix says, wringing out his smallclothes. “If you live nearby, it’ll be quite a walk back.”

 

Carver clucks his tongue. “Don’t overthink it, Felix. I’m coming along.”

 

Felix ducks his head to hide his smile and pulls on his dry clothes. His skin is still damp and sticky with salt but he already feels exhaustion settling in his limbs - the good kind that he’s been hoping for when he left the house this morning. His legs feel heavy as he follows Carver back up the stairs and he’s certain he’d sink even more quickly now.

 

The sun’s nearly touching the horizon by the time they make it back to the basket, the clouds in the distance set ablaze in golds and reds. Felix protests only a little when Carver picks up the basket and makes no move to let Felix carry it.

 

“You almost drowned today, remember?” Carver says and grins when Felix only huffs.

 

The walk back to the house is longer than Felix remembers but now that he’s walking with Carver by his side, it feels all too short. The beach in front of them is bathed in the golden light of the sunset and whenever Felix turns his head to look at Carver, he’s struck by how the evening light somehow manages to make him look even more gorgeous than usual.

 

“You’re staring,” Carver says when he catches him for the third time.

 

“Mh.” Felix keeps his eyes on the water to his left, suddenly very interested in the little bits of seaweed being carried in with the rising tide.

 

When the villa comes into view beyond the dunes half an eternity later, and the sun has nearly disappeared, Felix can feel his stomach gurgle. It’s been hours since he’s eaten, and Carver has fared no better.

 

“It’s late,” he says, nudging Carver’s wrist. “You must stay for supper.”

 

“Must I?” Carver asks, amused.

 

“You’ve kept me company all afternoon, and you took the time to walk me home. I insist.” He bumps his wrist against Carver’s again. “Your walk home will be dark anyway - I couldn’t let you stumble home hungry.”

 

Carver accepts, like he also knows by now that it’s futile to argue. When they finally reach the top of the stairs at the house, the last light of the setting sun is nearly faded at the horizon. The cook and both of Felix’s servants have gone home for the night and the house lies still and vacant.

 

There’s a hint of surprise on Carver’s face when Felix starts preparing supper himself, once he has washed the salt from his hands and face and put on fresh clothes. It’s just a dish of bread, cheeses and fruit, with two kinds of sauce of simple preparation. After he sees Carver eyeing them from across the room, he also serves the leftover strawberry pastries. Naturally, they’re the first thing Carver devours.

 

They decide to eat on the terrace once more. Even without the sun, it’s still pleasantly warm and the view of the stars above make up for any chill that might creep up from the sea.

 

“I’m very glad you found me today,” Felix says, keeping his eyes fixed on the lamp he’s lighting.

 

“You weren’t easy to miss up in the dunes,” Carver says and takes a great sip of his wine, something white and sweet this time that only seems to make him determined to drink it even faster.

 

“No, I suppose I wouldn’t be,” Felix muses, topping him up. Carver finishes that one just as quickly. “You’re fond of wine, I take it?”

 

“Hah? Oh. Yeah, I suppose…” Carver mutters. He has the decency to look somewhat abashed when Felix pours him another glass.

 

“Pay me no mind,” Felix laughs, popping a bite of cheese into his mouth. “We have more than enough, and I’m not much of a drinker myself. Someone ought to enjoy it.”

 

“‘m self-conscious now,” Carver says, but the way he eyes Felix over the rim of his glass tells him he’s accepted it in good humor.

 

Perhaps it’s the fault of his stomach, emptier than the last time they sat together like this, but Carver grows loose-limbed and soft the more he drinks this night. He leans back with great comfort as though he’s at home here, a faint flush on his cheeks visible in the firelight, his eyes hooded and warm. Felix hastily stuffs more cheese in his mouth when he thinks about it too long or too hard.

 

He can see him being here, not just tonight but every night. Eating food and drinking wine. Talking until the candles burn down. And then… He shakes his head and considers staying away from the wine altogether. It’s a ridiculous and dangerous thought, especially when he’s known the man for only a few short days. He came here to be _alone_ in the first place.

 

“It’s very quiet here,” Carver say, as if he’s read his thoughts. Or perhaps it’s just a comment on how little he has said in the last few minutes. “Don’t you worry about going mad sometimes? With no one to talk to?”

 

Felix laughs and picks apart a piece of bread on his plate. “I suppose I’m used to it by now.”

 

“Mh.” Carver finishes his wine and sets down the glass. “Yeah, maybe it takes practice. Wouldn’t get that around my family, though.”

 

“Will they wonder where you are? I’m afraid it’s gotten quite late.”

 

Carver shakes his head. “Bethany might. My sister.” For a moment, he looks surprised, as if he revealed more than he meant to. But then he settles back in his chair. “But I don’t think the others will even notice.”

 

“I doubt that very much,” Felix says, still sipping at his first glass of the evening. “You have a very… noticeable presence.”

 

Carver straightens a bit, like he can’t help himself. “You have to say that because I didn’t let you drown.”

 

Felix laughs. “Believe it or not, I formed that opinion _before_ you carried me through water like a child.”

 

“You’re taking the piss now,” Carver tells him, gesturing loosely with his wineglass. There’s nothing at all refined about him, and Felix finds it remarkably endearing. He leans forward with a smile and stands.

 

“I’ll fetch another bottle for you.”

 

The hand around his wrist comes as a surprise - so much so that Felix almost pulls away immediately. Instead, he freezes, completely aware of how startled he must look.

 

Carver looks up at him, his expression soft and his cheeks ruddy. “You also have a… very noticeable presence.” His hand lingers for a moment longer, as do his eyes, and Felix is sure his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

 

In the kitchen, he leans against the kitchen counter and closes his eyes, trying to get his bearings. This would normally be the moment where he’d talk to himself, like he usually does whenever he encounters a particularly stubborn problem. But he worries that Carver might hear him so he takes a couple of deep breaths instead and gets the promised bottle of wine instead.

 

When he steps back out onto the terrace, he finds Carver standing at the railing, look out into the vast blackness of the sea.

 

Quietly, he sets the bottle on the table and wanders close to Carver. “You’re quite fond of the sea.”

 

“It’s home,” Carver says.

 

Felix leans against the rail to extinguish the temptation to lean against _Carver_. “That… sounds lovely,” he says, honestly. “I’ve lived near the sea all my life and I don’t think I’ve ever thought of it as home. It’s a beautiful thought. Poetic.”

 

Carver snorts, bumping his shoulder against Felix’s. “Tell my siblings I’ve been _poetic_ and they’ll laugh you out of house and home.”

 

“You sleep naked on the beach and you know secret, picturesque coves and you call the sea your home. What about you isn’t poetic?”

 

He glances up to find Carver staring at him, now.

 

“I’m not trying to be,” Carver says, like he has to apologize for it.

 

“You don’t have to. I like that.”

 

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking most of the time.”

 

Felix smiles and is delighted to see it mirrored on Carver’s face. “I like that as well.”

 

Carver is very close now. Close enough that Felix could count his freckles, even in the low light of the candles. He’s almost too afraid to blink - scared that he’s going to pull away or be gone completely when he does, as quickly and suddenly as he appeared in his life.

 

“Would it be alright…” Carver swallows visibly. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Felix is certain he wouldn’t be able to get a single word out if he tried. So he just nods instead. Because it’s alright. More than alright.

 

And then Carver is kissing him, his lips soft on Felix's, almost hesitant. Felix has to stretch and nearly stumbles into him, his legs suddenly weak and useless. But Carver’s arm is around his waist, strong and secure, and Felix leans against him like he’s been wanting to do since the moment he met him.

 

Truth be told, Felix doesn’t know what to think. He hasn‘t had enough to drink to claim lowered inhibitions. He’s known Carver for a handful of days - they’re barely acquaintances - and yet...  

 

At the very least, he can admit to himself that this is most certainly something he wants before he stops thinking very much at all.

 

Carver is warm. Warm and solid, and he kisses like someone who‘s had several glasses of wine. He sways a little and leans against a beam, shifting Felix with him. When he breathes, Felix can smell the wine, taste it bitter on his tongue. It’s probably alright, considering that if Carver can taste much of anything off him, it’ll be cheese.

 

The thought makes him smile, and Carver leans back at the shift of his mouth, squinting. “What‘s so funny.”

 

“The potential for cheese,” admits Felix. Carver nods slowly.

 

“That can be funny,” he concedes. Felix plants a careful palm over his bare chest.

 

“Yes. Would you kiss me again, please?”

 

Carver snorts, tugging him closer. “Yeah,” he muses. “I could probably manage that.”

 

It’s good like this. Carver leaning against the railing, Felix leaning against Carver. It helps to obscure how much Carver sways and how much Felix’s head spins. But when standing becomes too much and Carver is seriously running the risk of crick in his neck, they migrate from the terrace to the lounge.

 

How he ended up in the lap of this gorgeous man in the very same spot they sat so awkwardly just a few days ago is completely beyond him. But Felix isn't about to complain when Carver runs his hands along his back and hips like he doesn’t know where to touch him first. And when he licks into his mouth and groans like he wants to devour him. When he peppers his jaw and neck with small kisses that make him shiver.

 

When he poorly stifles a yawn against the crook of Felix's neck.

 

Felix halts and pulls back a bit. After a moment of hesitation, Carver looks up at him. At some point he must have crossed over from pleasantly buzzed to sleepy and Felix hasn’t even noticed.

 

“You’re tired,” he says and bites his lip to suppress the laugh building in his chest.

 

“I’m not.” Carver tries to lean forward to press his lips against his throat again but Felix gently pushes him back.

 

“You can hardly keep your eyes open.”

 

Carver looks like he wants to say something smart but is interrupted by another yawn. He frowns. “I don’t want to stop.”

 

Felix runs his hands over his shoulders. “We can continue this tomorrow,” he says and his heart leaps at the thought.

 

With a loud groan, Carver leans back against the cushions. He looks out of the window overlooking the beach and the ocean beyond. “I’d better get going then.”

 

“Or,” Felix says before his brain can catch up with his courage, “you could stay here.” Carver raises his eyebrows in surprise. “There is a guest room. If you want it.”

 

Carver’s head lolls back against the back of the sofa for a moment before he rolls it to the side to observe Felix.

 

“Could stay in yours,” he says hopefully. A burst of warmth lights in Felix’s chest, but he pats Carver’s chest and moves to stand.

 

“Perhaps when you haven’t had so much to drink. You’ll take the room, then?”

 

“Yeah,” he sighs, letting himself be pulled up, “probably not the best idea, swimming with so much drink.”

 

It’s obviously the wine talking, so Felix nods, patting his arm. “Quite dangerous. No swimming tonight. Let’s find your room.”

 

There are a few more sleepy kisses and Carver’s hand never quite seems to leave Felix while he prepares the bed, even if it’s just a brush of fingers against the small of his back. Part of him almost expects Carver to make another attempt at getting him into bed but if he had any intention of doing so it’s thwarted by the fact that he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

 

Even without the wine, Felix starts to feel his own exhaustion. It still takes him a while to fall asleep, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. He mostly blames it on the fact that he knows Carver is _right there_ , just a wall between them. That his touch and his smell are so fresh in this memory that he almost thinks he can still feel his hands on his hips and his lips on his neck.

 

When he finally drifts off to sleep, he dreams of the ocean.

 

It doesn’t surprise Felix that he’s the first one up in the morning. He takes a quick look into the guest room, as if to make sure that he hasn’t made up the whole thing. But Carver’s still there, sprawled across the guest bed and snoring.

 

The terrace is just as they left it the night before. Dirty dishes and wine glasses on the table, the candles that they forgot to put out burned down completely. When Felix starts to clear the table, he notices the pelt. It’s the first time he’s seeing it out of Carver’s hands or his reach. It must have slipped off of the back of his chair. When Felix picks it up, it’s softer than he expected. Heavier as well.

 

A servant bustles around him, apologizing for neglecting to clean the mess. He lets her go to work without interfering. The reaction he gets from the cook is equal in fervor and opposite in tone - she’s known Felix most of his life, and scolds him for depriving himself and his guest of a proper supper. Once he proves himself properly contrite, she waves him away with the promise of a prompt and hearty breakfast.

 

He can’t recall Carver eating much at all the night before; he’s sure to be hungry when he wakes. Felix strokes the smooth pelt and leaves it draped carefully over a chair in the breakfast nook for Carver to find.

 

When another servant comes to set the table a short time later, Felix decides to try and rouse him after all.

 

He makes it up the first few steps before the slap of bare feet upon the polished floors approach him far quicker than he. There’s no trace of sleepiness on Carver’s face when it appears at the top of the stairs, and he barely slows to let Felix step aside when he leaps down two steps at a time. “Carver? What’s -”

 

“My pelt! Where is it?” Carver demands, making a beeline for the back door. Felix has little time to direct him back as he follows after Carver. The nervous little elf, only just finished cleaning the terrace, is frozen, her wide eyes on the man towering and near hysterics.

 

“Carver,” Felix says, touching his elbow, “I know where -”

 

“ _Where?_ ”

 

Felix himself goes a little still at the look in Carver’s eye. “It’s - it’s inside, I moved it this morning -”

 

“Give it to me.”

 

Though shaken and somewhat… disillusioned, Felix schools his features. “Of course.”

 

Carver follows him to the breakfast nook and pushes past him as soon as he spots the pelt on the chair. He grabs it and clutches it to his chest like a man holding on to a life raft.

 

“Carver,” Felix says and doesn’t know how to continue. He forces his hands to stay at his sides when all he wants is to reach out and touch him. But every line of Carver’s body screams rejection, from the tension in his shoulders to the way he holds on to the back of the chair as if he can’t stand on his own.

 

“Stupid,” he says, quietly but with enough venom to make Felix flinch. “How could I’ve been so stupid?”

 

Felix balls his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. He opens his mouth to speak, to say _something_. Anything to make this better. But before he can, Carver turns around, the expression on his face enough to make Felix reconsider.

 

“I need to go.”

 

“Of course,” Felix says again, like he can’t say anything else. Carver’s hands ball into the pelt and he stands there for a long moment. He stares at the floor, and Felix tries not to stare at him.

 

“Why’d you -” Carver starts, and then stops himself short with a noise of frustration. He slips past Felix finally, and manners at the very least dictate that Felix follow him to the door.

 

However, he doesn’t stay to watch Carver disappear over the dunes. Neither did he stop to take the clothes back from Carver’s body, though he’s sure he’ll never see them again.

 

It’s… strange. Too strange. What was it about the pelt that turned Carver to hysterics? What crucial point was Felix missing? It was all very strange. Even stranger, the sinking disappointment in Felix’s stomach despite how short their time together really has been.

 

He supposes a bit of loneliness will do that to a person.

 

With a sigh, Felix rubs a hand over his head and retreats back into the breakfast nook. No use letting all that food go to waste. On the low shelf next to the table, there’s a book he’s been reading, mostly during his meals. Before he filled his days with walks on the beach and his nights with kissing strangers. Perhaps it should be more disconcerting how easy it is to slip back into the familiarity of it.

 

When one of the servants comes in to discreetly clear away the second place setting, he can’t bring himself to even look up, afraid of whatever he’d find in her expression. Instead, he keeps reading, filling his head with mathematical theory until he doesn’t feel the sting in his chest as much anymore.

 

And for a while, it works. He occupies himself with books and numbers, only taking breaks for food and sleep. He’s never had problems keeping himself busy - perhaps one of the advantages of growing up without siblings. That first afternoon, big dark clouds push inland from the sea, bringing with them a perfect excuse to stay in the house. But even after two days, when the rain finally stops, Felix doesn’t see much point in going outside.

 

Carver doesn’t come back. Not that Felix had much hope in the first place.

 

Despite how short their time together was, when Felix slogs his way back into the present in between bouts of study, he finds he does miss him. Perhaps it’s mostly his company he misses, but… not entirely.

 

There’s no point in yearning, he hears Dorian’s voice tut in the back of his mind. What could it have come to in the end? A tumble or two in your parents’ summer home. Nothing so terribly missed.

 

Nothing but company, and a budding friendship, and perhaps… but no. No point in yearning.

 

On the fifth day of his self-imposed exile, it really is too comfortable a day to stay inside, and he’s put most of what happened behind him. He takes breakfast and lunch on the terrace, and when such a simple thing leads to restless legs, he informs the cook that he’ll be out, but back in time for supper.

 

There might be just a bit too much relief visible on the cook’s face and Felix is glad to leave the house behind him. At the bottom of the stair, he considers turning right and exploring some new parts of the beach but his feet carry him into a more familiar direction before he can even fully consider it.

 

The tide is low, leaving behind a strip of wet dark sand that is a lot easier to walk on. After a while, Felix starts wading into the shallow waves, just to kick up some water as he walks like he used to do when he was a child. With every step, his chest feels a little less tight and he can breathe freely for the first time in days.

 

He passes the dunes where Carver found him asleep. Wind and weather have covered up their tracks since then but he’s certain he could find the spot if he went looking for it. He keeps pushing on.

 

Sooner than he thought, the terrain forces him to walk up into the dunes and away from the water. Even without Carver’s guidance, he recognizes the spot where a faintly trodden path diverges and leads back to the cliffs. Returning to the cove wasn’t his plan when he left the house. If anything, he planned to avoid all the places that could remind him of Carver. But once again, his feet seem to have a mind of their own.

 

The closer he gets to the edge of the cliffs, the louder the sound of the waves gets, carried in by the wind rushing inland. But there’s something else. He slows down, not quite sure if he heard correctly. But then, there it is again. Voices. Laughter.

 

Someone’s in the cove.

 

Felix has no desire to intrude upon anyone, but curiosity drives him forward. Perhaps he has more neighbors than he once thought, he considers. It’s an optimistic sort of thought, was already well familiar with loneliness. The possibility of alleviating some of the silence in his home is a bright one.

 

He’ll only have a peek, he tells himself, and wanders carefully to the edge to peer over.

 

Dark hair and naked bodies. It must be some sort of trend, he thinks, and covers his mouth with a hand to suppress a smile. There are two bodies on the sand, and neither of them Carver, both with dark hair and not a stitch on them - he can tell that much, even at such a distance.

 

It’s impolite to stare, so he spares only a few seconds to watch the largest of them launch himself at a rock half out of the surf.

 

Only… the rock moves. And isn’t a rock at all.

 

It barks and rolls away, but the man laughs in pursuit, until the seal collides with… a second seal Felix hadn’t noticed, smaller than the first.

 

Felix can’t recall seeing any seals on his trip with Carver. He doesn’t think Carver ever mentioned them, either.

 

It isn’t terribly safe or kind of these people to run about bullying seals. He’s in the middle of contemplating the pros and cons of shooing the ne’er-do-wells out of Carver’s cove and away from the seals when his brain promptly stops.

 

The smaller seal tumbles over the larger one at the man and, somewhere in the middle of the action… splits.

 

Right down the middle.

 

And from its skin, another dark-haired person emerges, taking the skin up and tossing it to the remaining person on the beach before she takes to chasing the offending man up the sand.

 

Felix’s brain isn’t processing any of this.

 

The woman is significantly smaller but faster and the man doesn't get very far before she leaps onto his back, taking him down in a mess of limbs and laughter. She’s on her feet again and swatting at the man before helping him up. Felix watches them trot back up the beach, playfully kicking up sand. Despite their nakedness, Felix would swear he was witnessing a normal family day on the beach. If it wasn’t for the fact that one of them was a seal mere moments ago.

 

If it wasn’t for the other seal, still barking its displeasure from the water.

 

The man makes another attempt at it once he gets close enough. It’s more of a half-hearted leap, more designed to scare than to catch but it’s enough. Felix hasn’t even had enough time to process if he really saw what he thought he did when it happens again.

 

The seal jumps, lets out an offended bark and then… it’s not a seal anymore, but a man.

 

Even from this distance and even with his brain still refusing to accept any of it, he recognizes him immediately. Naked like the day he found him on the beach and the familiar pelt in his hand. A pelt t just a moment ago was…

 

He doesn’t think he made a sound and even if he had he’s certain the wind would have carried it away. But down on the beach, still standing in the shallow water, Carver looks up.

 

Whatever it is he’s seen, Felix is certain of only one thing: that he never should have seen it at all.

 

With great haste, Felix ducks away and hurries back over the dunes.

 

Perhaps Carver hasn’t really seen him, he thinks - perhaps he only turned his face in Felix’s direction, and never saw him at all. Perhaps Felix is actually dreaming.

 

Whatever the truth of the matter, Felix doesn’t speak a word of it when he gets home, sweaty and out of breath. He locks himself away in his washroom and comes to no further epiphanies during his long soak.

 

Once the water cools and he’s nearly as bored as he is paranoid, Felix buries himself in the meager library available to him in his family’s leisure home, plucking each vague tome on rare and mythical creatures he can find.

 

There ought to be answers in books when he can find none of his own.

 

He doesn’t even know where to start. The library is neither as extensive nor as well organized as the one he’s used to, with a vexing focus on fiction rather than useful sources. What he does find is more concerned with horrific monsters or benevolent spirits - nothing about seals that shed their skin to reveal handsome naked men.

 

Felix groans in frustration, ready to give up, when he spots a slim edition of Rivaini love stories tucked away on the top shelf. He faintly remembers it from his stay here a few summers ago. If he recalls correctly, the stories were of the usual romantic caliber. Knights in shining armor, damsels in distress, dashing pirates. But there was something else…

 

He thumbs through the pages until he finds the story he’s looking for. There’s an illustration to go with it - a beautiful dark-skinned woman with sharp teeth and a fish tail, pulling a sailor down into the depth of the sea. He scans the page for the right word. Mermaid.

 

It’s not quite the same. For one, mermaids don’t transform and walk on land. The story says that this is just their true form - half human, half fish. But then again, whatever Carver is, he’s definitely not Rivaini. Felix pauses for a moment, the open book still in his hands.

 

Of course. He’s been going about this all wrong.

 

It takes him a good while before he finds what he’s looking for. It’s a heavy old tome, dusty with disuse. Fereldan folklore seems to never have been a particularly interesting topic for anyone in the Alexius family. It takes him even longer to find something that could actually help him. But near the end of the book, there’s a passage that immediately makes his heart beat fast. It only mentions women, shedding their seal skin and forced to marry human fishermen who hide their pelts from them, but the similarities are too many to be a coincidence.

 

“Selkie.” The tries the unfamiliar Common word.

 

A knock on the library door pulls him from this revelation. He blinks several times at the ache in his eyes he hadn’t noticed before now. The sun has nearly disappeared, and a servant has come to fetch him for supper.

 

He rubs his eyes and acknowledges her as he stacks the books back on their shelves.

 

If nothing else, he feels better just having answers. He has no intention to do anything with them, and it’s not as though he’ll be seeing any of them again. He realizes then that it was likely Carver’s siblings he saw, and… more than anything, it makes him feel wistful.

 

Still. As remarkable as the discovery is, it seems almost pointless, dining alone in the quiet of the spacious dining room.

 

He should have convinced Dorian to come along after all, Felix decides, declining a bottle of wine when a servant comes to offer it. Briefly, he attempts to strike up a conversation with her, but she’s relatively new to the household and is so focused on trying not to appear as discomfited as she is that she only makes it worse. In fact, Felix is nearly certain he hears her sigh with relief when he gives her leave of the dining room.

 

He wonders if any of the servants know about the family of selkies living on their coast. They’re all locals so he supposes there’s a chance but he doesn’t ask. In his experience, if people try this hard to keep something a secret, there’s probably a good reason for it.

 

Despite the long day, he finds he isn’t very hungry and doesn’t eat much - a fact for which the cook chides him on her way out. He reassures her that he’ll grab a snack from the kitchen if he happens to get hungry before bed but she still gives him a slightly worried look as she leaves. With her and the other servants gone, the house seems even bigger and emptier than before. The silence only makes him think about the loud rowdy scene he witnessed at the cove and he decides that perhaps a glass of wine is in order after all.

 

By the time he steps out onto the terrace, the moon already stands high in the sky, bright enough to illuminate the beach below. Bright enough to illuminate the tall, dark-haired figure walking up to the house.

 

If he’s honest, he’s not surprised.

 

Carver doesn’t give him any indication that he has seen him standing on the terrace but when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he stops and looks up at him. He waits, perhaps for some belated reaction. For Felix to something or to scream or to run away. When he doesn’t do any of these things, he slowly starts to walk up the stairs.

 

“It’s a bit late for a house call,” Felix says, despite… everything. He wonders if there’s any proper introduction along the lines of, ‘I saw you pop out of a seal today, except the seal was you.’

 

Carver stops on the second to last step, peering up at Felix in the dark. As though he can’t quite help himself, Felix says, “You’re not a vampire as well, are you? Do you need my welcome to come all the way up?”

 

The light of the moon is just bright enough to see Carver’s scowl. With an air of petulance, he takes another step.

 

“That’s doorways,” he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. “And vampires aren’t real.”

 

“Like selkies?”

 

Carver doesn’t say anything to that. Felix lifts the glass to his lips reflexively, and pauses. “Would you like a drink?”

 

To this, Carver snorts. “This is a very odd way to react to… um....” He gives a vague gesture.

 

“Maybe. I could go dashing about making accusations and storm away without explanation.”

 

“Right, you _know_ now, you can’t possibly be surprised I’d be… that I’d think…”

 

“That I’d steal your skin to keep you here with me?”

 

Carver makes a face - not quite anger, not quite embarrassment. “When you say it like that…” He stops and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t... “ He makes a frustrated noise.

 

“I’m not interested in forcing anyone to stay with me if they don’t want to,” Felix says. “Magical creature or not.”

 

“I panicked.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

Carver’s shoulders slump and Felix feels a little twinge in his chest. “I didn’t know,” Carver says after a moment. “You’re… I haven’t met many humans.”

 

“Well, I haven’t met many selkies.”

 

It earns him another frown. “I’d only heard the stories. And when I woke up and couldn’t find my pelt, I just -”

 

“Panicked.”

 

Carver lets out a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

 

Felix sighs. “And I’m not planning on telling anyone about you and your family, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The way how Carver averts his eyes tells him he was right in his assumption. “So would you care for a drink now?”

 

Carver ducks his head. “... Honestly?”

 

Felix takes a sip of his wine as he contemplates his answer. “This is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not sure if there’s a proper way to handle something like this. I find it helps to pretend it’s actually quite normal.”

 

“You’re a bit daft.”

 

“Probably,” Felix agrees, and returns to the house. All things considered, he’s pleased when Carver follows him in.

 

In the light of the house, he can see the skin tucked under Carver’s arm, and supposes he can understand Carver’s initial wariness now. If Felix had reacted poorly, he could’ve leapt straight off the steps and disappeared back into the sea. The fact that he’s wearing pants tells Felix that despite this, Carver had _also_ been somewhat optimistic about the encounter as well.

 

The opened bottle rests in the sitting room just beyond the back door, and Felix goes to fetch a glass for his guest. When he returns, the pelt is in Carver’s lap.

 

“I take it the people I saw you with earlier were your infamous siblings,” he says, pouring Carver a glass.

 

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Carver takes the glass and takes a big sip. “And on their best behavior as well.”

 

Felix can’t quite help but smile. “I figured as much.” He sits down on the sofa. “Do they know about… what happened?”

 

Carver takes another sip, smaller this time. Felix isn’t sure if it’s a stalling tactic or if they wine is just really to his liking. “No,” Carver finally says. “They’d just try to…” He stops and shrugs. “They wouldn’t get it.”

 

Felix drinks, mostly to buy himself some time to think as well. “Do you live in the cove? Or is that just where you…” He makes a hand gesture that he hopes conveys the concept of a seal turning into a man.

 

“We use it because it’s secluded. Shielded.” Carver looks at the glass in his hands. There’s just the hint of a smile on his face. “Your beach gets more sun, though.”

 

“And fewer siblings.”

 

“That as well.”

 

It’s a tentative and cautious thing, but Felix finds that he’s just happy to have Carver speaking to him again, mythical Fereldan shapeshifter or no.

 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Carver asks abruptly in the middle of his second glass.

 

“Why would I?” Felix wonders. Carver makes an odd face.

 

“Why _wouldn’t_ you?”

 

Felix leans back against the cushions, downing the rest of the first glass just to be done with it. “It isn’t my secret to tell, Carver. If there’s anything you learn as a boy in Tevinter, it’s discretion. It’s no great thing to keep your secret.”

 

Carver looks dubious.

 

“Yeah… alright,” he finally says, setting his own glass promptly beside Felix’s. When Felix goes to fill it, Carver stays his hand. “Hey. I… really am sorry for…” He makes a face. “My, uh. Behavior. Before.”

 

“It’s understandable, given the circumstances,” Felix tells him. “Which feels very bizarre to say, given that the circumstances are what they are.”

 

“You must have thought…” Carver winces. “I should’ve trusted you.”

 

Felix shakes his head and pats his hand quickly before sitting back down. “No, you couldn’t know. You were being careful. Smart. I can’t fault you for that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Carver says and shifts in his seat. “I just didn’t want you to think that… You know…” He sighs. “I didn’t leave because I regretted it or anything. The kissing, I mean.”

 

“Ah.” Felix blinks.

 

“I don’t know if it’s just you, but you’re not like I imagined humans to be,” Carver continues, so quickly he almost stumbles over his words. “You’re very kind, and... I behaved like a complete idiot and you still… You’re still you.” He stops and swallows visibly, just the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks.

 

“Ah,” Felix repeats, at a loss.

 

“If you could just say _anything_ else, please.”

 

Felix rubs at his jaw. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this. I enjoy your company. And I’m happy you weren’t violently put off by my advances the moment you woke sober.”

 

Carver barks out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You really are shit at this.”

 

“I did tell you,” Felix grins. Carver smiles back.

 

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

 

Felix watches him before he catches himself and sits up a little straighter. “Are you sure you won’t have another drink?”

 

“Yeah,” Carver says, staring holes into Felix. “I’m sure.”

 

“I could get a bottle of that white wine from the other night or -”

 

“Felix,” Carver says and leans forward to cover Felix’s hand with his. “I don’t want to fall asleep so quickly this time.”

 

“What?” Felix’s eyes flick from his hand back up to Carver’s face. He’s close, suddenly very close. “Oh... _Oh_.”

 

Carver laughs and Felix’s thoughts stutter to a stop and then Carver is kissing him.

 

It’s an awkward angle, with Carver halfway out of his seat and Felix still trying to wrap his head around what is happening. Carver pulls back and taps his forehead against his.

 

“Alright?” he asks, his voice low.

 

“Oh, yes. Yes!”

 

A smile spreads across Carver’s face and when he settles back into the cushions of the sofa, he pulls Felix with him until they find themselves in a very familiar position, with Felix in his lap and his lips on his throat.

 

It’s just as good as Felix remembers it. Better maybe, with both of them sober and no secrets between them.

 

“Is this too sudden?” Felix asks, hot thrills making his skin prickle from his neck to his curling toes. Carver grunts against his throat, his hands undeterred as they slip under the shirt at Felix’s back. “That is to say - I haven’t -”

 

“Me, neither,” Carver grumbles. “Not with a human. Easy enough, though. I think.”

 

“I don’t particularly want to imagine seal sex,” Felix tells him, and Carver makes a strangled noise against his skin.

 

“’s not what I - urgh, never mind.”

 

Carver is... very strong. Felix had assumed as much, given the size of him, but it’s one thing to assume, and quite another to be lifted from a man’s lap like he’s a featherweight. Carver lays him out over the sofa and drapes himself over Felix, and the bulk of him sets Felix’s body alight.

 

He’d never considered that nearly suffocating under a grown man’s weight had the potential to be arousing. He’s learning all sorts of new things about his body tonight.

 

Carver kisses him again, slowly and thoroughly like they have all the time in the world. Like Felix doesn’t feel as if he’s burning up just from touching him. When Carver moves down, tracing the line of his jaw and neck with his lips, Felix exposes his throat to give him better access.

 

Carver sounds altogether too pleased, humming against Felix’s skin with every gasp and sigh he draws from him. But when he reaches the collar of Felix’s shirt, he stops and frowns. “Why do you humans have to wear so many clothes?” He tugs at the hem of Felix’s shirt.

 

Felix laughs and pushes his hands away to take it off himself. As soon as it hits the floor next to the sofa, Carver continues his work, seemingly determined to explore every inch of Felix’s body. He seems particularly delighted with the sounds that Felix makes when he brushes his thumb over his nipple and promptly follows it up with his tongue, then his teeth. The latter makes Felix buck up against him, heat pooling in his belly.

 

“Do that again,” Felix says, a little breathless, and Carver smiles up at him before moving on to the other side.

 

Carver’s hands are enormous, and when he slides them across Felix’s ribs, his body bucks up against Carver’s. He isn’t particularly ticklish, but Carver’s touch sets his nerves ablaze. It’s electricity where they touch, far more powerful than Felix has ever managed with magic.

 

Carver noses at his throat and kisses him there, and Felix... Felix is disastrously close to coming.

 

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he breathes, threading his fingers through Carver’s hair.

 

“Nnf? For what?”

 

“The embarrassment of youth,” Felix says with a punched out little laugh as his body presses up against Carver’s.

 

Carver pushes himself up to look down between them and raises his eyebrows at the visible bulge in Felix’s trousers. “Not embarrassing,” he reassures him and kisses him lightly. “But I’d like to at least get you of these first.” He runs his fingers along the waistband.

 

Covering his eyes with one hand, Felix laughs, the tension in his belly easing just a little bit. “Preferably. Should we move this somewhere… a little more spacious?”

 

Carver, whose leg is already precariously close to the edge of the sofa, nods and kisses him again. “You know,” he says in between kisses, “there are advantages to youth.”

 

“Mhm?” Felix presses his lips to the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

 

“Yeah. You’re far less quick to tire. Quicker to… recover.”

 

Felix stares at him, part of his brain still too busy focusing on the sensation of Carver’s hands running up and down his sides. “Ah,” he says, smiling at the sight of Carver’s flushed face. “I think we should really move somewhere more spacious then.”  

 

Carver lifts him up.

 

Actually bodily lifts him from the sofa. Felix’s legs try to give out under his own weight, and Carver doesn't help at all with the way he presses Felix up against the wall for a quick series of kisses at the base of the stairs. And the top of the stairs. And the door to the guest room.

 

“You smell nice,” Carver informs him once they manage to find their way to Felix’s room. “Really nice.”

 

“Thank you,” Felix sighs, gripping Carver’s shoulders when he’s hoisted up by the backs of his thighs.

 

All _sorts_ of new, wonderful things he never knew about his body are coming to light.

 

“Better,” Carver proclaims once they’re on the bed and he gets to cover Felix’s body with his without fearing that he might fall off. “So much better.”

 

Felix makes an affirmative noise and hooks his legs around Carver’s waist. He never thought being pressed into the mattress could feel this good, this safe.

 

But Carver has a different plan, quickly lifting himself up enough to continue what he started downstairs. He covers Felix’s neck and chest with kisses, lingering on his collarbone just long enough to leave a mark. Felix bites his lip, one hand gripping the sheets underneath him and trying not to buck up against him. It gets only more difficult the farther down Carver goes, past his bellybutton until he noses at the trail of hair just above his waistband.

 

“Carver, please,” Felix says, his voice already strangely thick, and lifts his hips to help Carver ease down his trousers.  

 

The part of his brain still functional enough to recognize how bizarre this situation really is wishes that he’d known this would be how the night would end that morning. How he leapt so readily from the existence of selkies to taking one to his bed is a bit much to swallow all at once, mentally. Emotionally, he’s still not sure how to reconcile going so quickly from being pushed out of Carver’s life to being swallowed down an eager throat.

 

Poorly, at first. Carver pulls back with a little cough, his face bright red, but he’s got an admirable stash of determination. He takes Felix a little more carefully the second time, and honestly, Felix isn’t sure he’s going to survive it. His body is desperate to move, and he cups Carver’s head with one hand, the sheets with the other. He bends at the knee and tries not to buck up and choke poor Carver again.

 

It’s a challenge.

 

He thinks he can do it. If he really focuses and doesn’t move, he thinks he can last. But then Carver looks up at him, his eyes wide and warm and his cheeks ruddy and his red mouth stretched around his cock and… Felix comes with a small shout.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says once he’s caught his breath again and Carver comes back up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

 

“It's a compliment, isn't it.” Carver kisses him and he tastes like him and Maker, that probably shouldn’t be this arousing. He sighs into the kiss, pressing himself up against Carver. He can feel him hard and thick against his thigh and when he moves a bit, Carver groans.

 

He moves again, just to hear it again. “Let me return the favor,” he says.

 

Switching positions is dizzying. Carver rolls Felix on top of him with the same ease as he'd lifted him off the sofa, big hands resting on his thighs as Felix straightens up. He stretches a bit, enjoying the way it makes Carver twitch underneath him.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” Carver blurts out, his face beet-red. And then, when Felix leans down to kiss him, “Really stupid gorgeous when you come. I want to see it again.”

 

Felix cups his face and kisses him again. “I’d like that.”

 

“‘Course you would. I just offered to make you come again,” Carver says. Felix grins, patting his chest.

 

“You did. I’m going to… ah. Reciprocate now. Helpful direction would not go amiss.”

 

“Right, so my first would be not to say ‘amiss’ in bed.”

 

Felix shifts back until he has Carver’s thighs under his palms. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“And then we can start by, uh, taking these off,” Carver says and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. They're a tight fit, made even more so by his erection, and it takes some assistance to wiggle out of them.

 

Sitting back on his heels, Felix is very much aware of the fact that he’s staring. Maker knows it’s not the first time he’s seen Carver naked. But this is different. “You’re very big,” he explains when Carver gives him a quizzical look. And then goes ahead and takes him in hand. Carver gasps as soon as he touches him. There’s already a drop of milky white fluid leaking onto his stomach and Felix carefully runs his thumb over the head to spread it.

 

Carver lets out a curse Felix has never heard before, which he takes as a sign that he’s doing something right. He’s flushed all the way down to his chest, the muscles in his abdomen twitching. “Uh, you can use your mouth,” Carver says, blushing even harder. “Just… no teeth, please.”

 

Felix laughs. There’s no way he’s going to be able to swallow him down. He thinks that even with practice it would be a difficult feat to pull off. But he does his best to mimic what Carver did to him, using his hands to make up for the difference. Judging by the noises Carver makes, he’s not doing so poorly after all.

 

When Carver comes, it’s with a strangled sort of noise. His abdomen is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, enticing in the candlelight, and Felix leans up to kiss his stomach.

 

Carver curses again, but softer, and pats Felix on the shoulder. “C’mere.”

 

So Felix gives his abdomen a fond pat and heeds him.

 

Carver overturns them both once Felix is eye level again, laying half on top of Felix to kiss him. And when he doesn’t roll away any time later, but instead plasters himself to Felix, he has finally reached the conclusion of Dorian’s forewarning.

 

“Do you want to leave?” Felix asks him when they’ve been still for a good stretch of time. Carver shifts and glances up at him.

 

“Not really. Do… you want me to go?”

 

“No,” Felix tells him.

 

Carver smiles and it looks almost a little bit like relief. “Well, good.” He snuggles a bit closer, nudging his nose against Felix’s shoulder.

 

They only move once, when the chill of the night starts creeping in and they somewhat reluctantly crawl under a blanket. Underneath, however, it’s much of the same - Carver close to him, his arm pleasantly heavy as it’s draped over him.

 

Felix has the fleeting thought that he should probably be worrying. About the future, the end of summer. About Carver’s family and whatever complications might come with taking a mythical creature into his bed. And just maybe about Carver leaving again. But his limbs feel too tired and sleep has already seeped through the cracks in his brain, threatening to wash over him like a wave at the beach.

 

Carver presses a kiss to his shoulder and is asleep before his head falls back on the pillow. Felix watches him sleep for a bit, warmth building in his chest. It’s good for now, he thinks. They can figure out the rest in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Joe WIlkins' "Explain: Beach Trash"
> 
> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
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